(Felt like the name of my blog was a little peculiar and needed a page of explanation)
As my journal entries rose exponentially, and the ideas pacing through my head increased their frequency, I decided to make a blog. Just a stack of polaroid pictures; each with a bunch of scribbled emotions, ranging in colour as well as saturation.
Writing is much like talking, except its uninterrupted- one of the many reasons why I love it so much. Sprawling across with a fountain pen, continuously. Except if you write continuously, you’re bound to make a few blots. Even if not on paper, these blots always exist. Somewhat like memoirs of deep thoughts, frozen moments, or confused situations; when you don’t really know what to do. These think blots are what make writing a solace for me, and for many across the seas. You don’t quite know what you’re in for, until you open the unmarked doors, the dusty cabinets, and the jar of unspoken words.
So here’s to the words we don’t speak, because they find their home on paper. Here’s to ink blots and think blots and first posts. Here’s to many more.